What Are You Feeling?
by gotta-rite
Summary: In the Paris Insane Asylum, a young doctor tries to reach one of the most difficult patients... with limited success.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: ****In the Paris Insane Asylum, a young doctor tries to reach one of the most difficult patients…with limited success. **

**This is a script for a play. I know plays are not strictly allowed on FF but I thought I'd post it anyway. The setting does not adhere to any particular version of Phantom of the Opera. But it is some time after all the tragic events, and Erik has been captured and hospitalized. Let's just use our whacked out imaginations... :)  
**

**© 2010 Gotta-rite  
With credit to Gaston Leroux for what's his.**

**WHAT ARE YOU FEELING?**

A Play in One Act

CAST

Dr. Balzac

An Inmate

Two Orderlies

ACT I

(Scene.—_Dr. Balzac's consultation room, Paris Insane Asylum, 1885. _

_Whitewashed walls. Sparsely furnished. To the left, a solid door painted white with large brass handle. To the right, a heavy oak desk laden with papers accompanied by a high-backed leather armchair. No windows or picture frames except for the doctor's credentials displayed above the desk. At the back, two large bookcases filled with bound volumes line the wall. Centre stage, a plain upright chair faces the desk. _

_As the curtain opens, _BALZAC_ is seen sitting behind his desk sifting through a folder of papers. He is about 35, dressed in a smart three-piece dark suit with starched collar. The_ INMATE_ is pacing idly around the stage. He is thin and wiry and wears plain asylum garb. His face is hideously deformed and openly exposed to the audience._)

BALZAC: Do please take a seat, won't you?

**[Inmate looks around the room, evidently displeased with the only available chair. After wandering around it for a bit longer he eventually sits upon it sideways facing the audience.]**

All right. Let's start shall we? Tell me how you're feeling.

**[Pause while Inmate continues to look around at the room and out at the audience]**

I believe you heard my question, did you not? What are you feeling right now?

INMATE: **[turns abruptly to face Balzac]** How old are you?

BALZAC: Let's just talk about you, shall we? What is your name?

INMATE: What's yours?

BALZAC: I am M. de Balzac, your doctor.

INMATE: I don't need a doctor. Do I look ill to you?

**[Inmate gets up and tries the door] **

BALZAC: Now do please sit down. We need to have a little talk first before I can let you leave.

INMATE: Why is this door locked? Where's the key you insufferable little toad?

BALZAC: The door will be opened just as soon as we have our talk. Now do come and sit down.

**[Inmate stalks about for a bit then sits]**

BALZAC: Good. Now, you were going to tell me your name.

INMATE: Why do I need to do that? Don't you have a name for me yet?

BALZAC: Yes, I've heard it. But I'd like to hear it from you all the same. What is it?

**[Pause]**

INMATE: Do you like music?

BALZAC: I have heard that _you_ like it. Who are your favourite composers?

INMATE: The composers don't matter. It's the music. Do you know any opera?

BALZAC: I'm afraid not.

INMATE: **[laughs]** Good for you! It's all rather insipid stuff, isn't it? Silly fairytale rubbish!

BALZAC: Then you don't care for the opera?

INMATE: **[angrily]** What do _you_ know about it?

**[Pause]**

BALZAC: What sort of music _do_ you like?

INMATE: Did I say I like music? You shouldn't jump to conclusions. Not very clever for a doctor, are you?

BALZAC: I confess my mistake. Then I take it you do _not _like music, is that it?

INMATE: No, you're jumping to conclusions again. **[laughs]** Try again!

BALZAC: **[sighs]** Why don't we return to my earlier question? What is your name? What do people call you?

INMATE: **[grinning] **The Opera Ghost.

BALZAC: Yes? Anything else?

INMATE: The Angel of Music. **[sniggers]** Do you find that interesting?

BALZAC: Perhaps we'll return to that later, shall we? What do _you_ call yourself? You must have a name you call yourself.

INMATE: You want me to tell you a secret! Well I'm not going to.

BALZAC: Don't you want me to address you by your right name? You are able to call me M. le Docteur de Balzac. How am I to address you?

INMATE: **[shrugs]** Call me 'the Trapdoor-lover' if you like. Or 'the Living Corpse', there's another. Or 'monster' if you really want to. They're all the same to me.

BALZAC: I would rather call you by the name you were given by your parents. Tell me what it was.

INMATE: **[angrily]** You really don't listen at all, do you M. le Docteur de Balzac? No wonder you know nothing of music! There seems to be something wrong with your ears!

BALZAC: Why do you object to telling me your name openly? You know that I already know it. Why can you not speak it?

INMATE: You don't know my name! Nobody knows it and I don't care to share it with anyone! Can you not take a hint, M. le Docteur de Balzac? You really are very trying!

BALZAC: Your name is Erik, not so? Am I correct?

INMATE: **[sniggers]** You can call me that if it suits you. It makes no difference to me.

BALZAC: 'Erik' then. And your family name is?

INMATE: I have no family so a family name cannot be relevant, can it?

**[Inmate gets up from his chair again and paces around the room as before]**

BALZAC: Your given name is Scandinavian in origin. But you are not from that part of the world, I believe. Where are you from?

**[Inmate stops pacing and turns to face doctor]**

INMATE: How much did that great booby tell you about me? Never once did I betray _his_ secrets! He presumes too much on 'the Trapdoor-lover'!

BALZAC: You are referring to the Persian gentleman, I presume?

INMATE: Perhaps you'd like to know _his_ name? But no, we swore never to tell it and you won't hear it from me, even if he is a liar and a traitor!

**[Inmate starts pacing again]**

BALZAC: What precisely is the nature of your relationship to that gentleman?

INMATE: There is no relationship now. He went back on his word. When I see him next I'll give him his reward. **[chuckles]** He'd like a new necktie.

**[Pause while Balzac writes notes. Inmate balances centre chair on one leg and spins it round and round roughly. He loses grip on it and it clatters on to its side]**

BALZAC: Perhaps you wouldn't mind resuming your seat, Erik?

**[Inmate considers, then rights the chair and sits heavily upon it facing Balzac]**

That's good. Now, what can you tell me about the Angel of Music?

INMATE: What do you want me to tell you?

BALZAC: Well, for example, who is the Angel of Music?

INMATE: **[in the manner of a child reciting a lesson]** He is an Angel who inspires all artists to become great geniuses and shed the light of their brilliance upon a world of undeserving mortals.

BALZAC: Is that what you hoped to do?

INMATE: **[annoyed]** I don't do that! The Angel does that!

BALZAC: And are you not the Angel?

INMATE: **[amused]** Do you think I am? I can make myself sound like him. I can show you if you like.

BALZAC: A little later, perhaps.

INMATE: You're wise to be afraid of my Angel. He has the Siren's voice. If you were crossing my lake right now the Siren would embrace you and then where would you be? Not sitting behind your knowledgeable desk pestering me, that's a fact!

BALZAC: And you? Where would you be?

INMATE: What do you mean?

BALZAC: We agree that if I were crossing your lake and heard the Siren's voice I should be in mortal danger. But where would _you_ be?

INMATE: What has that to do with it? I would be where I always am!

BALZAC: And that is?

INMATE: **[annoyed]** Where do you think? Where do monsters usually reside?

BALZAC: I really couldn't say.

INMATE: That's because you know nothing about it, you silly young fool! What do you mean by locking me up here and asking me all these stupid questions? None of this is any of your concern! Go back to your books and leave me in peace!

**[Inmate gets up and goes to the door, bangs upon it then takes hold of the door knob and angrily tries to wrench it open. Balzac ignores him and takes notes.]**

BALZAC: **[without looking up]** The door will be opened just as soon as we have finished our interview, Erik.

INMATE: Open it now, you villain! Let me out! Let me out before you regret it!

BALZAC: **[calmly]** What are you feeling?

INMATE: Let me out! Let me out now!

BALZAC: You will walk out of here when the interview is over.

INMATE: It's over now! Open the door! Where's the key? **[advances to the desk and starts throwing the piles of papers to the floor.]** Where is it? Give it to me this instant! **[launches himself over the desk and grabs Balzac by the collar] **Give it to me, you toady weasel! Give it to me now!

BALZAC: **[still calm]** I don't have the key. We are both locked in here together.

INMATE: Liar!

BALZAC: It's true. Do you think we didn't anticipate this reaction from you? Neither of us will be leaving this room until you calm down.

INMATE: Some of us may not be leaving this room at all!

BALZAC: **[very calm and precise]** Alive or dead, I shall leave this room. As will you, if you _calm down_.

**[Pause. Inmate then releases Balzac and backs off from the desk. Scattered papers are trodden underfoot as he wanders back to centre stage where he stands with back turned to audience. Balzac straightens collar and regards Inmate silently for some moments before speaking again.]**

What size was the cage?

INMATE: What?

BALZAC: You lived in a cage at one time. What size was it?

INMATE: Erik never lived in a cage! Never! Not at any time!

BALZAC: Somebody did. How did he feel about it?

INMATE: He doesn't speak of it.

BALZAC: Why not? Is he afraid to remember it?

INMATE: He hates it! He won't speak of it! Stop asking about it.

BALZAC: Lions are sometimes kept in cages. Also bears. All sorts of majestic creatures live in cages.

INMATE: All sorts of beasts, you mean! Animals exhibited for the amusement of stupid, ignorant people! Animals chained up day and night with only straw to keep them warm and nothing to eat but the scraps thrown in whenever their keepers remember them!

BALZAC: Are they lonely, do you think?

INMATE: **[emphatically]** What chance do they have to feel lonely, with all those greedy eyes feasting upon them constantly, disturbing their rest, throwing things at them, shouting at them, poking them, watching them even when they need to relieve themselves? **[turns abruptly to Balzac with arms folded tightly across chest]** What would they not give to be left in peace for a while? To be left alone and be allowed to sleep and never wake up again? Or do you think they enjoy all the attention?

BALZAC: I think they must hunger for true companionship.

INMATE: Others of their kind, do you mean?

BALZAC: Others with whom they can share their innermost thoughts and feelings.

INMATE: A beast has no such need. A beast is not a man.

BALZAC: And is a man ever a beast?

INMATE: **[quietly]** Often. **[with sudden anger]** What are you trying to make me say? What do you know of beasts and cages?

BALZAC: Only what I am told.

INMATE: Then stop speaking as if you know anything at all!

BALZAC: Perhaps you could explain it to me.

INMATE: **[turning away]** I've told you! I don't choose to speak of it!

BALZAC: But we were not talking about you. We were talking about the other person. The person who used to live in a cage. He's the one who wouldn't speak of it.

INMATE: **[turning back to Balzac with hands clenched into angry fists]** Stop trying to confuse me! Oh, you think you're very clever, don't you? But you can't trick the Trapdoor-lover! He's too smart for you by far!

BALZAC: And what can he tell me about it? Does he know what it is to be held captive?

INMATE: Of course he does, _now_! You insufferable fellows won't even let him take a walk without two of you there, guarding him like jailors! You like to _think _you're all respectable doctors but you're really just prison wardens in disguise! **[crouching in rage] **_Let me out of this cage_!

BALZAC: **[standing]** Tell me what you're feeling! Now!

**[Inmate picks up the chair and throws it with a savage grunt at Balzac who dodges it successfully. It hits the wall with great force, clattering loudly to the floor.]**

**[emphatically] **What are you feeling?

INMATE: _Stop asking that!_

BALZAC: Are you scared? Angry? Sad? Lonely? What is it? **[loudly]** What are you _feeling_?

INMATE: **[shouting] **I will_ kill _you_!_

BALZAC: _Tell me how you feel!_

**[Door suddenly opens and two men dressed in white rush in and seize Inmate who struggles violently.]**

No! Don't drug him! It's all right!

ORDERLY 1: We heard him attack you!

BALZAC: It's fine!

INMATE: **[struggling] **_You_ won't be fine! _None_ of you will! Not _one_! The Trapdoor-lover will have you all!

ORDERLY 2: **[shaking Inmate roughly] **That's enough out of you!

BALZAC: Let him be!

ORDERLY 1: He's excited. We ought to sedate him.

BALZAC: We haven't finished yet.

ORDERLY 1: You can't question him in this state!

ORDERLY 2: Let us take him back to his cell!

BALZAC: Not yet!

INMATE: You'll get nothing from me, M. le Docteur de Balzac! **[laughs and continues struggling]**

ORDERLY 2: It's hopeless, didn't I tell you! He's past all this! Forget it!

BALZAC: Quiet! I won't hear it! This is no concern of yours!

ORDERLY 1: Balzac, really, you must let us sedate him!

INMATE: Yes, sedate me, you fools! Solve all your problems with a magic potion! Let me sleep forever and never wake up!

ORDERLY 1: Balzac?

BALZAC: **[running hands through his hair]** All right, then! If you must!

**[Inmate laughs as Orderly 1 administers sedative while Orderly 2 holds him roughly from behind. Balzac sighs as Inmate slumps and loses consciousness. The room goes quiet as Orderly 2 slings Inmate over his shoulder in a fireman's hold and carries him to the door, knocking to be let out.]**

ORDERLY 1: Are you all right, Balzac?

BALZAC: **[sits down heavily]** Of course…Of course I'm alright.

**[The door is opened and the Orderlies depart taking the unconscious Inmate with them. Balzac picks up his pen to write but after a moment puts it down again and just sits looking at the disordered room covered in papers and the chair lying near the desk where it had landed. Fade to black.]**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: At the risk of ruining Act One, I've tacked on a second and final act. See what you think...**

* * *

ACT II

(Scene.—_the same. _

_The room is again tidy. The chair is now standing against the wall at back. _

_The curtain opens to reveal _BALZAC_ centre stage standing side-by-side with the _INMATE_ and facing the audience. _BALZAC_ is on audience left,_ INMATE_ on right. They are looking down at their feet. _BALZAC_ is dressed as before in a dark three-piece suit and wearing black shoes. The _INMATE_ is wearing the same grey asylum garb but he also has a long red woollen scarf tied around his waist. His feet are bare. His deformity is still exposed to the audience._)

BALZAC: **[taking a large step forward downstage] **This is _one_ step!

**[Balzac stops and waits for the Inmate to copy him. Inmate hesitates, then takes a similar large step forward to stand level with Balzac again.]**

INMATE: **[uncertainly]** One step.

BALZAC: Good. Now _two_ steps! **[takes another large step forward nearing front of stage]**

INMATE: **[following]** Two steps.

BALZAC: Can we go any further?

INMATE: **[shuffling uncomfortably]** Just a little way.

BALZAC: Show me?

**[Inmate looks at Balzac, then looks at ground ahead. He shakes his head.]**

BALZAC: **[gently]** What are you seeing?

INMATE: **[pause]** You can't come in here.

BALZAC: **[long pause]** Can you see the bars?

INMATE: **[angrily]** There are _no_ bars!

BALZAC: Then what is stopping you?

INMATE: Nothing stops me! The Trapdoor-Lover can go where he likes!

BALZAC: Show me. Show me how far you can go.

INMATE: **[breaking away]** I'm tired of your silly game, Balzac!

BALZAC: **[remaining facing the audience]** I think you could go another half-step at least if you wanted to. But you don't want to.

INMATE: **[returning angrily]** What do you know about it? **[Takes a half-step past Balzac, closer to the audience. He is now standing on the very edge of the stage] **There!

**[Inmate freezes. Balzac does not follow him but remains a half-step behind. There is a long pause.]**

BALZAC: **[calmly]** What are you seeing?

**[Inmate does not respond. He remains staring straight ahead out at the audience.]**

What sounds can you hear?

INMATE: **[after a pause, quietly]** She's singing again.

BALZAC: **[equally quiet]** Is it a pleasant sound?

INMATE: **[head to one side, as if listening]** She never sings when he's around.

BALZAC: How does this sound make you feel?

INMATE: **[wistfully]** He only wanted to say how pretty she was.

BALZAC: **[stepping closer to Inmate]** Your voice sounds sad.

INMATE: **[turning suddenly to Balzac]** What? What are you talking about you great booby?

BALZAC: You. When you speak of that sound. Your voice sounds sad.

INMATE: My voice isn't sad! Anyway, what do you know of it? Don't you think a little boy would feel sad if his Mamma never wanted to see him? You're not a very great genius for a doctor, are you? The Trapdoor-Lover has to tell you everything!

BALZAC: **[calmly]** That's what I'm here for. So that you can tell me. So that you can make me understand. Isn't that so?

INMATE: **[churlishly]** You won't let me go until I do.

BALZAC: I can see that spark of interest in your eyes. I think you _want _to make me understand.

INMATE: **[after a pause]** Ask your question!

BALZAC: I heard you say, 'She's singing again.' Who was singing? Was it your mother?

INMATE: We don't have a mother!

BALZAC: But there is some lady, some female person. Can you tell me who she is?

**[Inmate begins to fidget and looks distracted. He pulls at the scarf tied round his waist. Balzac straightens his tie. It catches the Inmate's attention.]**

INMATE: What are you doing that for?

**[Balzac stops.]**

BALZAC: Does it disturb you?

INMATE: Don't play those games with me, Balzac! The Trapdoor-Lover knows what you're about!

**[Balzac chuckles and lets his hands drop.]**

BALZAC: You are indeed an intelligent fellow! Yes, I was mirroring you. Does it make you feel uncomfortable?

INMATE: You're trying to make me see things that aren't there. You can stop it now!

BALZAC: All right. **[holds up placating hands] **I've stopped.

INMATE: **[as Balzac moves upstage to stand level with him]** You think you're very clever, don't you? But you're forgetting who I am. I am the Great Magician of Mazenderan! Tricks like that are for little children!

BALZAC: **[reaching his side] **And what do little children see in the mirror?

INMATE: **[after a grim, deathly pause] **They see their God!

**[Inmate is breathing deeply. Balzac watches him silently for some moments. He then breaks eye contact and moves slowly behind the Inmate to his other side, audience right. Inmate turns to him.]**

BALZAC: **[coming to a stand] **Where does it hurt when the little boy hears the singing?

INMATE: What?

BALZAC: You were standing here, listening to a voice singing. Where does it hurt when the little boy hears the singing?

INMATE: **[obstinately]** Nowhere!** [starts walking away upstage]**

BALZAC: **[sighs]** Sometimes, when I speak to other little boys, they tell me that they feel pain in their stomachs and in their heads. Does that sound familiar?

INMATE: **[in some confusion]** What? **[stops]** Whose heads?

BALZAC: Other little boys. Sometimes they feel pain in their heads.

INMATE: Well they shouldn't be so careless with them, should they? If they will go sticking them into places where they shouldn't go, they have to take the consequences, don't they?

BALZAC: **[moving slowly upstage]** What if somebody was nice to them instead? What if somebody forgave them and said kind words to them?

INMATE: **[watching Balzac advance]** Spoiled them, you mean?

BALZAC: These are only little boys. Little boys always get themselves into trouble. It's natural. They need a kind friend to forgive them and help them.

INMATE: Nobody was ever kind to me!

BALZAC: Nobody? **[stops about a pace from the Inmate] **Not _one_ person? Not _ever_? At _any_ time?

**[Inmate pauses to think, watching Balzac warily.]**

INMATE: **[grimly]** He never wanted to help me. They made him. He wanted to kill me.

BALZAC: **[Walks upstage and fetches the upright chair, places it by the Inmate centre stage and sits down. Inmate remains standing]** You've told me about this Persian gentleman before. He is very significant to you.

INMATE: The Trapdoor-Lover never told _anyone_ his secrets! Who do you think you are?

BALZAC: You've been very loyal to him. That's commendable.

INMATE: **[turning away, muttering]** _Erik_ is commendable. Not me!** [approaches desk and starts tossing through sheets of paper and books.]**

BALZAC: 'Erik.' Yes. **[crosses one leg over the other] **Perhaps you can tell me about him. When did you meet him, for instance?

INMATE: **[turns round to face Balzac]** Did I say I _met_ him? I have never met him! He came to me! He… **[pauses in confusion] **He is someone else.

BALZAC: **[quietly]** Was he in love with Christine Daae?

INMATE: **[breathing deeply]** No. No, he wasn't.

BALZAC: Were _you_ in love with Christine Daae?

**[Inmate starts to tremble. His knees shake and he crosses his arms over his chest. Balzac slowly rises from his chair.]**

INMATE: **[brokenly]** She…She said…She was...

BALZAC: Yes?

**[Inmate sinks to knees. He buries his face in his hands and appears to weep noiselessly. As Balzac approaches, he lifts his head and lets out a tortured howl of raw pain, making Balzac freeze.]**

INMATE: **[weeping]** She said she would stay with me!

**[Balzac approaches cautiously and squats in front of the Inmate at about an arm's length.]**

BALZAC: I hear you. I can see your pain.

INMATE: **[through tears]** _What_ do you know of _pain_, great booby! Does a doctor know anything of pain? Who told you what it is to be hated and loathed, to be hunted down like an animal, and locked away like a monster in a cage? **[struggling to his feet] **The Trapdoor-Lover has never known anything but pain! And who are you to teach _him_?

BALZAC: I am a Jew.

**[Inmate pauses and regards Balzac. Balzac is still squatting, looking up at the Inmate. Long pause.]**

BALZAC: You didn't notice?

INMATE: **[striking the tears from his disfigured face]** You don't have a Jewish name.

BALZAC: You mean you didn't notice my features? **[stands up and smiles] **My people have been hated and despised for generations. I have seen people spit at my mother in the street. I watched my father get beaten half to death one night with clubs. I have feared for my own life on more than one occasion. Do you think perhaps I might understand?

INMATE: **[after long pause, and with childish surprise]** But you're a nice fellow!

BALZAC: Nice has nothing to do with it, unfortunately. The world is not a just place, whether we think it ought to be or not. There is pain and hatred and murder every day. **[spreading his palms] **And there is also love, and kindness, and generosity. **[moving towards the Inmate] **Have you never experienced that? You must have, or you wouldn't know what those words mean.

**[Balzac motions to Inmate to sit down on the floor. They sit, facing each other. The Inmate's back is to the desk.]**

BALZAC: I know that your life has been difficult. But nobody's life is _all_ bad. Why, you've told me yourself of many wondrous adventures that you've enjoyed, many places that you visited, many great inventions that you created! And there are simpler joys too, I am certain, from your childhood, if you care to recall them. Cast your mind back. Let me help you.

**[The Inmate has been watching Balzac intently throughout this speech. They are now locked in a mutual, relaxed but searching gaze.] **

Close your eyes and take yourself back into your earliest memories. **[Inmate hesitates and then closes his eyes]…**Back through the years…Your young manhood, your boyhood…Remember a lovely sunny day…a childish song…a new game discovered…Can you see yourself there?

INMATE: **[dreamily]** Yes.

BALZAC: What are you wearing?

INMATE: My best clothes.

BALZAC: Describe them for me.

INMATE: I don't remember…They were clean.

BALZAC: Can you smell the cleanness?

INMATE: I can smell the lavender. My mother liked lavender.

BALZAC: You sound happy about that. Who else is there?

**[Inmate's body relaxes as he thinks deeply over Balzac's words. Balzac maintains a calm, low voice.]**

INMATE: There was a little girl.

BALZAC: Describe her for me. How old is she?

INMATE: I don't know. Seven? **[pause]** She has blonde hair.

BALZAC: What is she doing?

INMATE: She has some cake. She's giving some to me.

BALZAC: What sort of cake is it?

INMATE: Seed cake.

BALZAC: Do you like seed cake?

INMATE: I like seed cake.

BALZAC: What happens then?

INMATE: I eat it. And she goes away.

BALZAC: How did it feel to receive that cake?

INMATE: **[with difficulty]** It…I don't know.

BALZAC: Were you happy?

INMATE: I don't know.

BALZAC: You see her hand you the cake. You take it…Look at her face…Tell me about her face.

INMATE: **[agitation increasing]** It's not her _face_!

BALZAC: **[with slight concern]** What is it? What are you seeing? What are you hearing?

INMATE: **[breathing heavily]** She is…She was… **[grasps his head as if in pain] **She _said_ something!

BALZAC: I can see it meant a lot to you. Can you hear her words?

INMATE: **[shaking]** No! She…She said… a _name_!

BALZAC: **[firmly]** What was the name?

INMATE: **[becoming angry]** I don't know! I don't know!

BALZAC: Yes you do!You're not a helpless little boy any more. You're a powerful man! What was the name?

INMATE: **[opening his eyes and screaming]** I don't know! I said I don't know! You miserable, dirty little scum-faced bastard! Leave Enrique alone! Leave him alone! Leave him alone you blunder-headed old son-of-a-whore!

BALZAC: **[loudly]** Look at me! **[kneels squarely in front of him]** Look at me, Enrique! What colour is my shirt?

INMATE: **[panting]** What? **[pushes past him and staggers to his feet]** What do I care about your shirt, Balzac? Are you mad? **[drags himself to the chair centre stage and sits heavily on it, facing Balzac] **What colour is your shirt indeed? It's white of course, like all the walls in this place. What other colours are there, besides grey and black?

**[Balzac stands and turns to look at Inmate. He allows the Inmate a moment to recover himself.]**

BALZAC: You're correct of course. **[points at Inmate] **But I see you have a red scarf there.

INMATE: **[glances down at the scarf tied round his waist]** Yes. Your noble henchmen said I could keep it.

BALZAC: Was it a gift from someone?

INMATE: What a ridiculous question! Of course not. It came from the Sisters of Charity.

BALZAC: Another instance of kindness.

INMATE: **[grudgingly] **You might suppose.

**[Balzac represses a sigh. He moves round behind the desk and sits down, resting his elbows on the desktop]**

BALZAC: So she called you by name?

INMATE: **[startled] **Who?

BALZAC: The little girl. The little girl with the cake.

INMATE: Apparently.

BALZAC: Do you remember who she was, this little girl? A stranger? Or did you know her?

INMATE: I don't remember. **[shuffles in his seat]** There were always people at the house. People never mind their own business! She was somebody's daughter I suppose. I don't remember.

BALZAC: How did it feel when she called you by name?

**[There is a moment of tense silence. Then the Inmate suddenly stands up.]**

INMATE: That's more than enough questions for today, Balzac! You do run on, don't you? But I have other pressing engagements that can't be put off for the likes of you, so I'll thank you to show me to the door!

BALZAC: Very well.** [stands up and moves round the desk.] **I can see that you must be feeling tired. We have covered quite a lot of ground today.

INMATE: That's enough talking! Let me out of this room!

**[Crossing stage, Balzac leads Inmate to the door. Knocks on door to have it opened from other side.]**

BALZAC: The orderly will come soon to show you out.

**[Balzac offers Inmate his hand to shake. Inmate looks at it curiously, and then takes it as if shaking hands for the first time.]**

BALZAC: You're making very good progress. I think you should be proud of yourself…Enrique.

**[Door opens and Orderly 1 enters, holding door open for Inmate. Balzac releases Inmate's hand.]**

INMATE: **[uncomfortably]** Don't tell Erik's secrets, Balzac.

BALZAC: Of course not. You have my solemn word.

INMATE: Good.

**[Exit Inmate.]**

ORDERLY 1: All's well, Doctor?

BALZAC: Never better! You can return Erik to his room. Or better still, take him for some exercise in the yard. I think a walk would do him good.

ORDERLY 1: It's not his time for exercise.

BALZAC: For heaven's sake, man, this is a hospital first, not a prison! Take him out for some fresh air! Go on!

**[Orderly 1 mutters acquiescence and exits, closing the door. Balzac brushes down his jacket and then moves to the chair. He picks it up and places it back against the back wall. He turns, facing the desk and breathes deeply. **

BALZAC: **[in soliloquy]** 'Enrique'!...Is that truly your name? Or have you invented it to please me?

**[Curtain falls as he walks to desk.]**

_End of Act II_

_

* * *

_**A/N: Honestly, i don't know if Balzac is a Jewish name or not, and can't find any place to tell me. Oh well, it's all just fun anyway! :)**


End file.
